It All Started With Cedric
by AbstractConcept
Summary: What Cedric gave Harry was more than just a onenight stand he gave Harry the courage of his convictions, and Harry will use that.


**TITLE**: It All Started with Cedric  
**AUTHOR: **AbstractConcept (aka theconcept)  
**RATING**: M  
**DISCLAIMER**: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc  
**SUMMARY**: What Cedric gave Harry was more than just a one-night stand; he gave Harry the courage of his convictions, and Harry will use that.

**It All Started with Cedric**

He liked girls, soft and smiling and slightly mysterious—girls like Cho. Harry Potter was utterly straight. Absolutely. _Incontrovertibly_, as someone as pompous as Snape might say. He knew it in his bones, the same way he knew his hair was dark, the same way he knew his parents were dead. Because it had pretty much always been that way, and would continue to be that way. Until, of course, it wasn't.

And it all started with Cedric.

Harry Potter was utterly straight right up until Cedric Diggory, God of Hufflepuff and Adonis of the Triwizard Tournament, had suggested that Harry take a bath. The _way _he said it… All of a sudden, there was an odd sort of fluttering in Harry's stomach, and his palms were sweating, and why on earth would Cedric be interested in _him_, anyway?

It had to be a trick.

Cedric was probably just trying to seduce Harry for a laugh, or perhaps this was his way of getting Harry to stop looking at Cho. He couldn't _mean _it, really. And Harry wasn't _stupid. _He wasn't going to fall for a daft line like that. He wasn't going to expose himself to ridicule and shame by waiting for Cedric, naked and sodden, clutching a golden egg to his chest. No way. Never.

Of course curiosity got the better of him.

Harry figured out the egg's clue, and tried to tell himself he was only a little disappointed that it turned out to be entirely about the contest all along. He waited in the water for more than an hour afterwards, until he was starting to shiver, and Moaning Myrtle had given up and gone away. Then he gave up on the whole crazy idea of Cedric Diggory seeing him as anything more than a goofy, gawky kid.

He shouldn't have let himself imagine it in the first place.

But then as he rose from the water, reaching for his bundle of clothes, the door opened, and there stood Cedric, smiling a bit shyly, mischievously, _warmly_, in a way that heated Harry's naked body right up. Harry froze. He stood there, dripping, unable to think of anything to say. Unable to swallow the lump of fright in his throat and just _ask _already.

So Cedric asked instead.

"Is this all right?" He came in and shut the door, fingers reaching for the hem of his shirt. And then—God—he pulled it off, chest bare, no shame, no shame, _no shame. _Harry got out of the bath, almost slipping on the wet tiles, crossing to Cedric, mouth working, forming the word _please _silently. Cedric seemed to understand, because he smiled again, just as cheerful as the first time.

Then he took Harry's face in his hands, kissing the _please _from Harry's lips.

The kiss was long and soft, but when it ended, neither of them moved away, nor tried to take more. They just sort of hovered there like that, eyelashes brushing one another's cheeks. And then time returned, slamming into Harry's chest, and he was gulping for air, sure that he'd never really breathed before because he never remembered it feeling so _good_.

Then he reached up, around Cedric's neck, around Cedric's shoulder, pulling him down, _demanding _to be kissed again.

Cedric laughed lightly into the kiss, enthralled by Harry's boldness, smiling at the way Harry's damp, dewy limbs wrapped around him. He gently manoeuvred Harry over to the wall, soft kisses followed by fiercer ones, heated bodies beginning to press and writhe against each other. Cedric's hands mapped out Harry's torso, seeking out droplets of water, splaying against Harry's sensitive stomach, all while Harry whispered "_Cedric," _again and again like a mantra, like a prayer that had lost all meaning and had become merely rhythm.

Cedric pulled back, eyes dark and hungry, like Harry'd never seen them before, and said Harry's name in return.

Harry never knew his own name could sound like that. He'd never heard it said that way, all hoarse and ringing with want. And then their hands were all over each other, and Harry was sliding down the wall, followed by Cedric, who was pinning him to the floor, skating his fingers over Harry's hips, sucking on Harry's ear, and Harry reached down to feel Cedric first, enjoying the way Cedric shuddered a little and moaned. Why had Harry ever been attracted to softness? This hardness, this was so much more arousing.

Cedric's hand wrapping around Harry's length was even better.

They thrust into one another's hands, groans mingling with gasps, echoing off the marble walls. And when Cedric reached down a little further, Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to say no. Sure it was weird, probably wrong, terribly frightening, but then there was Cedric's smile again, filled with light and comfort, and Harry found himself nodding wordlessly.

Cedric knew what he was doing, and Harry trusted him.

Harry loved the feeling of letting someone else do all the work, loved the loss of control. He loved Cedric's hands on his shoulders, steadying him and giving purchase for every thrust into Harry's body. Harry's breath was taken away with every plunge, with the soft noises falling from Cedric's perfect lips.

_Oh, sweet mother, this was heaven. _

And all too soon, the heat in their bodies had spurted out, and they shuddered and held to each other tightly, and eventually found themselves stretched out on the cold, hard bathroom tiles. They stayed like that until Harry couldn't stand it anymore, until the chill and the uncomfortable position forced him to move. Harry hated to give this up; Cedric's hand fluttering through his hair, Cedric's breath ghosting over his chest, Cedric's voice, warm and low, muttering about how well Harry had done, how splendid it had been.

It seemed like a great beginning to something more.

They had all the time in the world, and each other to share it with, and laughter and adventure and a thousand enjoyable possibilities, all waiting for them, all hovering just over the horizon. They'd kissed goodnight sweetly, and Harry had eagerly told Cedric they'd be together soon. Cedric's smile lit up the night and started a fire low in Harry's belly, and Harry tucked the moment away in his back pocket, slipped on his Invisibility Cloak, and went back to his dorm, sated.

It _should _have been a great beginning, and not—an unfulfilled promise, a happiness cut short before it could bloom, a memory of what _could have been._

By the time Harry faced Voldemort, he could barely remember Cedric's smile. So many other smiles were lost along the way—Sirius', and Dumbledore's, and even Ron's, and Ginny's. Harry stopped trying to remember them all a long time ago, and started trying to forget. Still, he stands up straight, touches his back pocket, and reaches out for the warmth of a hundred touches never to be felt, a hundred kisses never to be stolen. Voldemort took a great deal from Harry over the years…hopes and fears, and not a few good witches and wizards. He raises his wand to do battle, and remembers what the man stole from him.

And he remembers that it all started with Cedric.


End file.
